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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295349">"Welcome to Pears Café!"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izupie/pseuds/Izupie'>Izupie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Flirting, Crush at First Sight, Finally wrote that Reddie coffee shop AU, Fluff, I know there's a load of these already but here we go, M/M, Meet-Cute, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:40:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izupie/pseuds/Izupie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have an umbrella that you can use,” tumbles out of Richie’s mouth.</p>
<p>
  <i>Oh, fuck.</i>
</p>
<p>Umbrella-Guy turns around, like he’s surprised somebody else is even in the room, and the first thing Richie notices is that his thick eyebrows are pushed up so high that they’re scrunching his forehead. He has dark, expressive eyes – huge goddamn puppy-dog eyes – and freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a blue shirt, splattered with tiny dark spots of rain where it had peppered him after his umbrella had broken, and a satchel with a yellow strap over one shoulder.</p>
<p>Slowly the guy’s expression darkens, and his eyebrows push down, squinting his eyes.</p>
<p>Oh no, he’s <i>cute.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>"Welcome to Pears Café!"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Merry Christmas Tulip and Scrunchi!!! This one is for the both of you!! I knew I really wanted to finish this a Christmas gift for you both, but working in retail over December has left my brain like the equivalent of mashed potato, so I've not been able to work on it as much as I wanted to. Everyone loves a last minute gift right??</p>
<p>I really wanted to thank you both so much for the fun we've had with the coffee shop AU stuff. This fanfic finally completes the creative set of Fanart inspiring Fanart inspiring Cosplay inspiring more Fanart inspiring Fanfiction. I had sooo much fun with all of the back and forths we've had! </p>
<p>Please go and check out <a href="https://www.instagram.com/scrrunchiiii/?hl=en">Scrunchi</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/paotulip/?hl=en">Paotulip</a> for their awesome artwork, and the pieces that inspired this fic!</p>
<p>I had a small group of friends in the IT fandom back when I first joined, but around the time of the pandemic they all drifted out, and it felt a little bit like being at a party and everyone I know has already left, but now I'm just left alone hanging around the edge of the room because I don't want to leave yet. Which is fine, because I've drifted in and out of fandoms too myself, and I don't mind being in them on my own, but it's so much more fun with friends. So I really wanted to thank you both so much for making me feel like you were inviting me to hang out with you! Especially since you're both such lovely people! And you've both been so supportive!</p>
<p>tldr: I love you guys</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So what if Richie’s yawned in the face of three different students already? If he has to be up at the crack of dawn just to serve coffee to them, then hearing his half-hearted, ‘welcome to Pears Café’, punctuated at the end with a huge, gaping yawn is just the price they have to pay for making him actually work at such an ungodly hour.</p>
<p>Richie thinks there’s something wrong with students who can make it into a coffee shop <em>before</em> their early morning lectures. He can recognise the looks of sleep deprivation and existential dread on those student faces looking across at him from the counter, and he always feels the urge to reach over and be like ‘me too man, fuck mornings.’ But he never does. Because it’s like as soon as they’ve suffered through Richie’s piss-poor attempt at a greeting, they’re instantaneously revived by the oh-so-brightening thought of ‘well at least I’m not <em>this </em>guy.’</p>
<p>The least they could do is give him a fucking break every once in a while.</p>
<p>He needs the money, okay. Not everyone got the chance to go to college.</p>
<p>The worst are the students with a superiority complex – that look at him like he’s something they stepped in on the way there. Like he’s not just about to serve them the very thing they came in here for. Like he’s not the one who considers making a good coffee (not just a coffee – a <em>really fucking good coffee) </em>an art. There’s a skill in it that they don’t appreciate. It’s not like he doesn’t <em>get </em>that they’re the ones going to their lectures and earning their degree, while Richie is the one standing behind a counter in a dumb looking stripey shirt and a grey apron with a big smiling pear on the front. (He was actually the one that drew a smiley face with sharpie on his pear a couple of months ago. So that’s on him really.) He <em>gets </em>it. But he’d just really like it if he could get through one whole shift without feeling like shit at the end of it.</p>
<p>“<em>Hello?</em> Are you listening to me? Is anyone home in there? Can I make an <em>order?”</em></p>
<p>Richie blinks several times, realising he’d been zoning out again. A girl with curly dirty blonde hair is stood at the counter regarding him with distaste.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Richie finally responds brightly, “can you?”</p>
<p>She pops a gum bubble loudly between her tacky pink lips and sighs an impatient noise at the back of her throat. “Can I <em>what?”</em></p>
<p>Richie forces a smile. “You asked if you could- y’know what, it doesn’t matter, welcome to Pears” – another yawn – “what can I get you?”</p>
<p>“Anything this century would be nice,” she says with a pinched expression and a nasty roll of her eyes.</p>
<p>He knows he should just make the damn coffee, but now she’s pressing all his self-destruct buttons and he’s committed to go down in flames. “Aha!” Richie claps his hands and shakes his head, his messy curls dancing on his cheeks. “<em>C’est magnifique!</em> ‘<em>Anything This Century!’</em> A bold choice. Very bold. It’s pretty early in the morning for it, but hey, I’m just here to serve.”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about? I just want a <em>coffee</em>.”</p>
<p>Tough crowd. Richie’s smile is extremely strained, but it’s just about holding in there. “Sure thing, ma’am,” he replies, barely suppressing another yawn. He’s tired and she’s being rude. “What kind?”</p>
<p>Bubble-Gum-Girl looks at him like he’s just spoken a different language. “A <em>c-o-f-f-e-e,” </em>she says slowly, enunciating each letter with a sneer. “It’s not difficult to understand, and I really don’t have time for this.”</p>
<p>Richie nods emphatically and then turns around to make a grand show of opening each cupboard behind the counter, peering into each one as if it will reveal its secrets to him. He makes a humming sound for good measure and puts his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Ah, gee, well this is just no good at all.”</p>
<p>“What? I can’t believe this. Are you going to serve me or not?” Bubble-Gum-Girl snaps.</p>
<p>“Well, the problem is, that I can make all sorts of <em>coffees – </em>lattes, cappuccinos, flat whites, americanos, the works! But I can’t seem to find any <em>c-o-f-f-e-e</em>,” he mimics her waspish voice perfectly, “is that a special blend?”</p>
<p>She blinks at him, utterly speechless, and finally spins on her heel and storms out with a frustrated sound. He thinks he can hear her muttering about talking to management on her way, but Richie just waves as she goes. She slams the door.</p>
<p>Richie continues waving even when he remains the only person in the café again. Ah well, she wouldn’t be the first person to complain about his attitude. But if the customer is going to treat him like shit then he doesn’t see why he has to take it. For every annoying customer that pisses him off enough to get them to storm out, he sweet-talks another into coming back again, so he’s constantly riding a delicate line of ‘win some, ya lose some’ in an equal enough measure to not get himself fired.</p>
<p>He feels a little more awake now at least.</p>
<p>It’s not long until Richie begins to regret that he drove away the only customer he’d had. He taps a fingernail on the counter and then lifts it up to pick at the skin on his cuticles. There are some remnants of the pink and purple polish that he painted there a week ago, which is still flaking off slowly, so he switches to picking at that instead.</p>
<p>Finally, the door opens again, and a customer practically falls inside. Richie straightens immediately.</p>
<p>“Welcome to Pears Café,” he says automatically, but the stranger is muttering under his breath as he struggles with an umbrella that’s obviously turned inside out, so he doesn’t hear. He’s trying to force it back the right way around, but even from a distance Richie can see that the metal spokes are completely twisted backwards. Umbrella-Guy seems to come to the same conclusion as he eventually huffs angrily and lets it drop to the floor just inside the doorway.</p>
<p>“I think it’s dead, man,” Richie says at the same time that the guy grits out, “Fucking umbrella,” so his comment goes unheard again.</p>
<p>Umbrella-Guy takes a phone out of his pocket and runs a hand through damp looking brown hair as he puts it to his ear, while Richie walks across to the nearest window to see a deluge of rain crashing down outside. He was glad it hadn’t been that bad when he’d walked to work earlier.</p>
<p>No wonder he hadn’t had any customers after Bubble-Gum-Girl.</p>
<p>But the guy still hasn’t turned to face the counter yet and Richie is starting to get the feeling that he’s not even here for a coffee. (But this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to him on this early shift for weeks, so he’s not complaining yet.)</p>
<p>“Bill!” he suddenly exclaims into his phone, making Richie jump slightly. “Yeah, I know it’s fucking early. Shit, look- yeah, I know you’ve not got to get up for another few hours but some of us have early fucking lectures, Bill. Waitwaitwait, don’t hang up- fuck you, I’m not cranky in the morning! I just need you to come pick me up.”</p>
<p>Richie is surprised. The guy’s voice is loud. And fast. Like, <em>really</em> <em>fast. </em>He continues to talk, somehow even more rapidly, about how his umbrella turned inside out, and Richie finds himself wondering how ‘Bill’ on the other end is keeping up.</p>
<p>“I will owe you so many favours, Bill. Just name it… Your laundry?... Uh, I don’t know, I don’t really want to touch your- wait, wait, okay, I could do your laundry for a month!... Of course I really fucking mean it.” He gestures wildly with the hand not holding onto his phone, his tone laced with irritation, and Richie is hanging onto his every word. “Well yeah, I’d just take it back to my mom’s house when I visit, same as I do with mine. Fuck off am I using the dorm laundry room! That place reeks like vomit! Do you know how many drunk students have thrown up in those washing machines? What’s the point of washing your clothes if you’re going to be letting them spin around in a load of-”</p>
<p>Umbrella Guy shakes his damp hair gestures madly in the air again. “Okay, okay, okay. Look, c’mon, you know how important this lecture is, Bill. My umbrella’s a mess and I’m already pretty wet, but I just need to get to the other side of campus without looking like I’ve been fucking swimming. You <em>know</em> this could be where I get an internship offer.” There’s a pause in his tirade where Richie imagines Bill is talking, though from this far away he can’t tell. The guy heaves a sigh. “Thanks Bill, you’re a lifesaver, I-”</p>
<p>“I have an umbrella that you can use,” tumbles out of Richie’s mouth.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh, fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>Umbrella-Guy turns around, like he’s surprised somebody else is even in the room, and the first thing Richie notices is that his thick eyebrows are pushed up so high that they’re scrunching his forehead. He has dark, expressive eyes – huge goddamn puppy-dog eyes – and freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a blue shirt, splattered with tiny dark spots of rain where it had peppered him after his umbrella had broken, and a satchel with a yellow strap over one shoulder.</p>
<p>Slowly the guy’s expression darkens, and his eyebrows push down, squinting his eyes.</p>
<p>Oh no, he’s <em>cute</em>.</p>
<p>Richie chokes on that sudden, obtrusive thought and motions with hands above his head in what he considers to be an umbrella shape. “I can <em>lend</em>” – <em>(oh my god, did his voice just crack like a thirteen-year-old?!) – </em>“you the umbrella we keep in the back.” Richie clears his throat loudly and leans on the counter, desperate to cover up his voice cracking with bravado, even though his brain is still telling him this whole thing is a bad idea and not to get involved. But since when has his mouth ever done the sensible thing anyway? He barrels on regardless with a much smoother, “But we only lend it out to the really cute customers.”</p>
<p>And then Richie winks. <em>(God, he’s never flirted this badly with a customer before.)</em></p>
<p>Umbrella-Guy’s mouth pinches into a hard line, but unless it’s a trick of the light Richie is almost sure that there’s a faint blush blooming over his cheeks. It makes his stomach swoop.</p>
<p>The guy opens his mouth to say something, his face still pinched with irritation, but a voice yells out of the phone, and interrupts him with a loud, <em>“Hello? Are y-y-you there?”</em></p>
<p>“Shit- sorry Bill!” He pulls it back to his ear and stares hard at Richie, like he’s trying to tell if he’s just messing with him, and Richie finds it difficult to clamp down on the childish urge to stick his tongue out. Instead, he makes a show of leaning his elbows onto the counter and placing his chin in his hands, batting his eyelids in a show of innocence. The truth is that they do not ‘have an umbrella in the back’, and it is in fact Bev’s personal umbrella from her locker (that Richie knows the code for). But it happens to also be the very umbrella that he was going to steal for himself to get back to his apartment without getting soaked when his shift ends.</p>
<p>Finally, the guy looks away from Richie and replies softly into the phone, “Actually, Bill, it’s okay- something else has come up. Looks like I won’t be needing the lift.”</p>
<p>Richie is taken aback by the surprise that hits him. For a second there he really didn’t think he was going to agree.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m sure,” Umbrella-Guy continues with a nod, even though his friend won’t be able to see the action anyway, and his expression softens further as he smiles. “Okay, I’m sorry for waking you up. Yeah, I’ll tell you how it goes later. Do not fucking tell me to break a leg, I hate that saying- thanks, love you too.”</p>
<p>He slips his phone into his bag and then straightens up in a movement that makes Richie think of offices and lawyers, like the guy isn’t standing there with his cute cowlick fringe and his cute freckles and his cute Bambi eyes and speaking at a rate that was almost hard to keep up with.</p>
<p>(Not that he’s falling for a guy he just met.)</p>
<p>(Richie Tozier is not that dumb.)</p>
<p>
  <em>(Or is he?)</em>
</p>
<p>(He hopes that the ‘love you’ was meant in a platonic way, and not in a boyfriend way, because he’s already feeling that a huge tub of ice cream and Bev patting him consolingly on the shoulder would have to follow that revelation.)</p>
<p>“So… was that your boyfriend?” comes blurting out of his traitorous mouth before he can stop it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p>
<p>The guy’s nose scrunches, and Richie realises both his error and that he also thinks this is cute in equal measure. “Fuck off,” he says, reaching for his phone again.</p>
<p>Richie waves his hands madly. “Fuck- no- I didn’t mean- wow, that came out so offensive.” He shakes out his curls and pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Just, uh, rewind your brain and I’ll start again.”</p>
<p>“Re… What?”</p>
<p>Richie makes an odd sucking sound through his mouth, aiming for the sound of a VCR tape rewinding, but feeling like he’s ended up more at something like a vacuum cleaner that needs replacing. He moves his arms jerkily at the same time, as if moving backwards, until he leans back down to the counter and rests his elbows on it again. “The name’s Richie,” he says smoothly, in a Voice that he’s pretty sure came out of a spy movie he watched last week, “Richie Tozier. Master of making coffee and saying things without thinking about them. I heard you need an umbrella. Well don’t ya worry, fella, I got ya covered… Ha, <em>covered</em>.”</p>
<p>The laugh that slips out of Umbrella-Guy’s lips is almost a giggle and it makes Richie freeze while an embarrassing immediate warmth creeps up his neck and blooms out across his whole face.</p>
<p>He laughed… at one of his god-awful puns?</p>
<p>The cute guy quickly shakes his head, a laugh still on his lips when he says, “Nope. You did <em>not </em>say it like that. If you’re going to rewind the conversation, at least keep it accurate.”</p>
<p>“Uh yeah. That’s always how I introduce myself to everyone.”</p>
<p>“It sounded more like you told a person you’d just met that you’ll lend them an umbrella, called them cute- which, I’m not <em>cute </em>by the way- don’t fucking call me <em>cute</em>. And then asked if they’re gay.”</p>
<p>His severe expression softens as he smirks, but Richie kind of liked that little line between his eyebrows just as much as he likes the dimples that are forming on his cheeks where he can’t seem to stop smiling.</p>
<p>
  <em>(He’s so fucking cute!)</em>
</p>
<p>Richie scoffs. “Well, I preferred my version better.” He grins and adjusts his glasses on his nose. “Not all of us walk into a person’s place of work, completely ignore them, throw a broken umbrella to the floor, rant on the phone, and then not even tell them their name.”</p>
<p>The guy laughs fully then – almost a cackle. A ridiculous sounding laugh that Richie wants to hear again as soon as he’s stopped. “Eddie Kaspbrak,” he says eventually. It’s such a formal introduction that Richie feels like he should lean over and shake his hand or something.</p>
<p>He’s about to do it when Eddie’s eyes stray over to the clock over Richie’s shoulder. “Oh, shit! My lecture! Do you have that umbrella?”</p>
<p>“Yeah man, no problem, hang on.” Richie pushes through the employee’s door and races over to Bev’s locker. He makes short work of putting her code in and opening it wide – revealing her stash of half empty cigarette packets, stacks of magazines for the slow days, and the many bundles of spare clothes she’s left in there when she’s forgotten to take them home. He was going to steal it anyway, so he’ll just apologise next time he sees her, and give it back when Eddie returns it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p>
<p>Eddie will need to bring it back. That means he’ll see him again.</p>
<p>Unless he doesn’t.</p>
<p>Richie shakes that thought and grabs the umbrella, yanking it out from where it was wedged inside.</p>
<p>When he comes back Eddie is looking back and forth between the clock and the entrance with a nervous energy that has him virtually bouncing on his feet. Richie holds out Bev’s umbrella. “Here you are, sir. Hot off the press.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, I- wow, that’s a big one.”</p>
<p>“That’s what your mom said to me last night.”</p>
<p>The line between Eddie’s eyebrows returns in full force at his sudden scowl and Richie feels himself absolutely beam – grin full of teeth and amusement. He wiggles his own eyebrows for even more of an effect. Eddie’s scowl deepens. He loves it. Who would have thought his bottom-level ‘your mom’ jokes would be the ones he would be raising up to the top of his must-use list? Just for Eddie though. If he ever sees him again.</p>
<p>“You’re kind of an asshole,” Eddie says.</p>
<p>“Takes one to know one, Eds” Richie shoots back.</p>
<p>“That’s <em>not</em> my name.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, <em>Edward.</em>”</p>
<p>“Goodbye, <em>Dick.</em>”</p>
<p>Richie snorts a laugh. “Richard and Dick is such an easy shot, but damn that was a good one,” he says with total sincerity between his chuckles. He’s still grinning from ear to ear and something flutters in his stomach when Eddie’s scowl twitches into a smile as he turns and goes to leave.</p>
<p>“You better bring this back,” Richie calls after him, “any time between seven and three tomorrow.” <em>While he’s on shift.</em> “There might even be a free coffee in it for you. Decaf, though. You don’t look like you need any more caffeine. Bye Shorty!”</p>
<p>“Not my name either!” Eddie flips him off over his shoulder as he goes, but he stops walking when his hand touches the handle. “Oh, but uh, thanks by the way.”</p>
<p>“Don’t mention it. Or, please do, because I love the gratification.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Eddie mutters. He still doesn’t open the door. “And Bill’s not my boyfriend.”</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“Bill’s not my boyfriend,” Eddie nearly yells at the door. “He’s just a friend.”</p>
<p>(Is the <em>I’m single</em> under his words just Richie hoping too hard?)  </p>
<p>Eddie turns briefly back to Richie and the blush that covers his nose and cheeks is bright enough to see from his place behind the counter. It surprises Richie so much that he can’t even reply when Eddie mutters a quick bye and slips out the door – snapping the umbrella up into the rain and practically jogging away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I also made a moodboard for this on instagram - <a href="url">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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